


Relics

by palomino333



Series: Pandora-verse [20]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Growing Old, Homecoming, Inspired by Music, Mind Meld, Multi, Old Married Couple, Post-Dominion War (Star Trek), Section 31, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 20:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18676573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palomino333/pseuds/palomino333
Summary: "It's people like you, and Ambassador Spock, who threaten the safety of the Federation." Spock returns home to Leonard after the Dominion War. Originally appeared in Spiced Peaches Zine LVI.





	Relics

The lieutenant commander was quite young, Spock noted, upon her entrance to his quarters. Her Vulcan heritage reminded him of Saavik and, on a more solemn note, Valeris. There was, however, a weariness to her, one that would have been nearly imperceptible to the human gaze. Her eyes were tired, her body giving the slightest hint of lack of ease. "We are approaching Earth's orbit, Ambassador."

Spock gave a nod. His few effects had already been placed away. The PADD sitting on his sparse, windowless quarters' table glowed a bright blue. Reaching forward, he turned it off. On it were several inquiries about his time on Romulus, to which he was careful in planning out his answers. They would not have to be finished immediately, lest misinformation be transmitted. There were also inquiries as to his health by former crewmates, the most principal being from McCoy.

He didn't think much on reuniting with Leonard, as he had continued to feel him in the back of his mind, even while on another world. Still, from time to time, he had wondered as to whether there would be a change between them, once they were face to face.

"There is a message for you, from Lady Perrin," she commented, "She has been advised to be brief, given our proximity. Have you further need of assistance?"

"That will be all, T'Plen, thank you," he replied.

With a curt nod, the woman departed, revealing her command pips as she swung out of the doorframe. It did not surprise him at this point, given Starfleet's diminished roster, that someone of her age had been fast-tracked.

On-lining the viewscreen, he greeted his stepmother, "Lady Perrin."

"Spock," she held up the Vulcan salute, which he returned, "You are safe." She had aged considerably since he had last seen her. In a petty sense, he thought for a moment that his biological mother had aged far better than Perrin, but regardless of the point, the stress was easy to see through her wrinkles. She was still grieving Sarek.

"Yes," he affirmed.

Perrin glanced to the side, and he began to quietly count the seconds the conversation was taking up. He was not expecting it to exceed five minutes. "Then that is good. I heard you are on en route to Earth, as well."

"Correct. I intend to remain with my mate for the duration of his retirement," Spock replied.

Her eyes met his at that. She seemed ready to say something, but then changed her mind. "I will be living at your father's estate to settle his affairs."

"You are his widow, stepmother. You may live there as long as you may please."

"I was not intending to curry the approval of my stepson," she replied, a moment of their previous feud flickering past. Gentling her tone, however, she continued, "If your family wishes to visit Vulcan, however, I will make arrangements for you. I assume Leonard informed you that I left your inheritance in his care?"

"Yes."

Perrin lowered her shoulders at that, and appeared about to sigh, the conversation closing. "Then we agree. Will you allow me to impart advice, before we bid our farewells?"

It was a slight jab at his ego, but Spock deflected it with a reply. "Certainly."

Perrin gave a slight smile, her expression genuinely warming. "Cherish the years that you have earned, Spock. They are still limited." He gave his assent, and she finished, "Forgive me the human idiom, but 'good luck.'"

Spock paused, wondering if Perrin's usage had truly been coincidental, given the tone of finality of their conversation. He intended not to speak to her again unless needed, and she understood that, the two having burned their bridge. Was that part of her contempt for him, his wanting to repair relations between Vulcan and Romulus, despite their own personal battle lines being drawn? If so, that was shameful, not that he would give voice to it. Choosing to humor her, he replied, "As to you, stepmother." He off-lined the comm and continued his preparations.

Within his inbox were scattered inquiries, as well, a principal one being from a Lieutenant Commander Geordi LaForge of the Enterprise-E inquiring after the whereabouts of Centurion Bochra. Spock had known the young Romulan, Bochra having taken up under him following an incident that had stranded him and LaForge on a distant world. Bochra's sympathy to Spock's cause was more personal, and, in retrospect, illogical, as it had ridden more so on his feelings for a Federation officer. When the Dominion War began, Bochra slipped back into the ranks of the Romulan military, not to be seen again to Spock's knowledge. LaForge would, unfortunately, need to keep looking, as would scores of others.

It perturbed him, only somewhat, that the inquiries came to him at all. He wasn't infallible, though his reputation often pervaded him. Such meditations brought Jim to mind, and at times he still felt unready to confront the past.

There was a feeling of anticipation within him, despite there being no need. He had been to Earth multiple times before, and only San Francisco had suffered damage from the war. Nonetheless, the political landscape had shifted to a more war-like one, and now to one in mourning. The funerals would be several in coming.

His former crewmates were gathered before the ship, as it lowered to dock, minus Sulu and Chekov, who were still out among the fleet. They too, had survived.

Scott looked completely unchanged, but that was understandable, given his disappearance. Spock had given thought, after the engineer had gone missing, only on a passing fancy, that the same may have happened to Jim, but decided against entertaining it further. The reality had been more horrific.

Uhura, from where she stood beside Scott, was more aged in comparison, but still retained her fire. Her fingers twitched at her side for a moment, where a recorder was strapped. Handing the PADD containing the inquiries over to her, Spock explained the contents. With a curt nod, she replied, "I'll get on it."

McCoy looked tired to him, in more ways than one. He could feel his exhaustion and relief, as well as see it. The human was doing a remarkable job at containing it, but he could feel it radiating from him through the bond, that sheer loneliness.

He didn't hug him. It wouldn't have been right, in front of those cameras and onlookers. But they were beside one another, their thoughts twisting and interlocking. And Spock, much to his own surprise, had several questions that rose to the surface. How was Joanna? How were the great-grandchildren? Was their home in Georgia still the same?

McCoy merely gave him a smirk. "Think I should be the one asking the questions first."

It wasn't until leaving the more urban area of Atlanta that they were at last granted some modicum of peace. Normally, Spock would have waited to return home before a display of affection was given, but he had been willing to make an allowance. Especially considering how McCoy's hand had been on his knee in the flitter. The vehicle stopped at a forested area on a dirt path. McCoy grinned. "A little adventurous, aren't we?"

Spock's disconnection of his seatbelt was his answer. McCoy held up his fingers, and he brushed them with his before tugging him over for a passionate kiss. McCoy kissed back, mumbling endearments against his lips. Spock was careful in his grasp to keep him from slipping and hitting the transmission. His fingers ran over the human's lithe body, taking in every angle, and memorizing the fabric he wore. He tugged at McCoy's collar to kiss down his neck. "Ashayam," he breathed against it. He had heard the humans refer to a sensation known as "phantom limb," though this bore a stark difference. His mate's presence was consistently there, in the back of his mind, but the connection had been weak, mostly due to Spock blocking him. There was no sentimental regret over that, however, as it was a strategic move to protect Leonard. He doubted that the Romulans could harm McCoy on Earth but considering how more than once during the five-year mission he had seen his mate in tethers, Spock decided that caution was for the better. He allowed his human half that much say.

The remainder of the trip to Conyers was uneventful, though it did make Spock think of Vulcan. McCoy squeezed his knee. "We can still go there, you know."

"I will think on it," he replied, not wishing to return, just yet, and run the risk of re-entering into Vulcan-Romulan politics.

"You sure you want to do this?" McCoy teased as Spock directed the flitter to lower to the ground. "You'll be stuck with me."

"Then it will bear little difference from the five-year mission, doctor," he replied, and McCoy slowly smiled at that.

The house's groans were more pronounced than before, giving Spock pause. He knew this setting, had walked these floors, but also did not know it completely. Signs of age were there, with holes in a carpet, or paint beginning to peel. As he surveyed the dwelling, McCoy commented, "Been meaning to have the place fixed up. Things got in the way."

"You do not need my approval," Spock commented.

With a snort, McCoy adjusted a picture on the mantelpiece. "I'm not asking for it. The place needs fixing up before it falls apart."

Spock headed off into another room at that, knowing that he should have expected some cheek from him.

McCoy complained loudly about Spock carrying him up to bed, but nevertheless, when Spock attempted to lower him, clung to his neck. Spock felt faint amusement at the human's finicky nature.

Leonard felt delicate to him, now. He was easily able to feel each of his bones through his skin. Time was ultimately unkind to the living, but it had allowed him several decades. Disrobing was an activity Spock met with some hesitation, giving how he himself had changed, physically speaking. He had gained weight, and now sported several scars from his time on Romulus. The misshapen physicality was one that he was used to, but Leonard was not.

McCoy, however, was more concerned about the scars, and commented on them. "Can't be bothered to take care of yourself, can you?" Underneath, however, Spock felt his fear for what had caused them. Not all were from accidents. Some were from the blows of blades, while others had been from the burn of a phaser. The Tal Shiar had come close, more than once, to capturing him.

"I could say the same for you, doctor," he replied, being cognizant of McCoy's drinking.

"Have to loosen up once in a while, darling," he replied with a smirk. McCoy's hands slid slowly over Spock's chest. McCoy's smirk fell, and he stilled his hands. "You okay?"

The question wasn't easy to answer. Spock had returned home intact, but the frustration of multiple years, not only in the intellectual, had tired him. McCoy lifted one hand to place against his husband's cheek. He wanted Spock but was willing to stop. The Vulcan did appear quite tired.

Then his hand was grasped and brought to the skin. McCoy glanced up once at Spock, who gave a nod. McCoy gently kissed down his chest. Spock swallowed at the light touch of his lips. He'd been without it for years at a time, given the war, especially. McCoy had touched himself in his absence, Spock had been able to tell by the arousal felt over the bond. He himself had meditated to block it, though he had found the arousal rather stimulating. The kisses were dry, but quick. McCoy was insistent in his exploration of him. Spock's groan was muted at the attention, and though he thought to stop the noise immediately, decided against it.

He felt tears on his skin and caught McCoy by the side of his head. The human stared at him, and Spock felt his tentativeness. He ran hand over McCoy's cheek, catching the tears on his fingers. He moved up, and kissed Leonard, his fingers locking about his mate's, and his shoulder.

Their minds slowly opened, and their thoughts intertwined. Spock shielded McCoy from parts of it, meetings that he had had, and contacts he knew. He didn't wish to place a target upon him. McCoy, for his part, understood that, though what caught his attention more was the isolation. Spock understood Romulan society to a point but remained as an outsider. He thought on occasion of the Enterprise crew, being far away from them. As for McCoy, the exhaustion was overwhelming. He was tired from the sheer volume of work, from the attacks by the Borg, to the Dominion War. It was only a tentative peace.

The new age was one that McCoy didn't fully understand, and the fact that he was losing his grip on it scared the hell out of him. For himself, he didn't much fear, but it was for those would live beyond him. He turned his mate's face toward him. Namely, Spock.

"There are multiple problems I have with that mongrel radical," a Romulan dignitary had once commented, "Among them being the idea of interspecies breeding. We have seen him follow closely in his father's footsteps with his selection of a mate. The human McCoy is an embarrassment, in his manner of acting. Considering his rank as admiral, it is clear what Spock's intention is in his teachings. It would be irresponsible of us to allow our children to follow such an example."

It wasn't a new sentiment that Spock had overheard concerning Leonard, but it didn't much bother him. They didn't know him, and that was for the better. McCoy had gone through enough harm in his life, as was.

McCoy snuggled up beside him, and relaxed. "Welcome home, darling."

After a moment's silence, Spock replied, "Thank you."

XXXXXX

Spock found it difficult, at first, to grow used to the smells as well as the sounds of home again. He found the smell of cooking meat distasteful, given that it tended to remind him of Romulus. McCoy tried his hand at dishes local to Vulcan again. While Spock appreciated the gesture, he found that he preferred his own making.

McCoy's great-grandchildren, as Spock had expected, did attempt to hang and climb on him, over-excited to see him again. Overwhelmed, Spock had gently pried each seeking pair of hands from himself, while McCoy and his granddaughter gently warded off the children and reminded them of personal space. Spock compromised by reading to the children from, a twentieth-century book found by McCoy for him after the conclusion of the five-year mission. Whenever one of children interrupted him by asking if he'd killed any Romulans, and if so, how many, Spock would close the book, and state solemnly that if the children didn't stop, they wouldn't find out if the red engine (the most illogical of the engines, in Spock's opinion) would be allowed out of the shed again. While it did quiet them, McCoy later joked with him, "And my patients say I was bad."

McCoy shortly retired after the war's end, having had enough of Starfleet.

"You're leaving us?" Admiral Sulu joked to him over a drink. The relief efforts after the Dominion war had taken away any pomp and circumstance from McCoy's retirement, and he much preferred that. The bar was sparsely populated by officers, with Spock and Scotty outside. Uhura was also gone, stating that she was currently busy with Starfleet Intelligence.

"I'm overdue, at this point," McCoy replied.

"Still, it'll be odd to be without you," Captain Chekov said with a shake of the head, "We need good admirals, these days."

"These days?" Sulu replied with an affectionate nudge.

Chekov chuckled. "I'll drink to that."

The three drained their glasses.

"Keep in touch, Leonard," Sulu said, setting down the empty glass, "I want to see you again, sometime."

Before his death, McCoy noted silently, but didn't say anything about that. "Of course."

Out in the courtyard, Scotty commented, "Does it concern you, at times?"

"Please be more descriptive," Spock replied, sitting down on the bench beside him.

Scotty turned to look at him and twisted his wedding band on his finger. "Knowing that you'll outlive the others like I will."

"It is not a matter of concern. It is a fact," Spock answered, "I had accepted that from a young age, given my mother was a human. It seems you have your own concern about the topic."

Scotty nodded his head. "Aye, I just can't get used to it. Nyota, me own wife, is now several decades older than me, as are me friends. There's no rhyme or reason to it."

"You are correct," he replied, "It was based upon random chance, as are many things in this universe. Consider that as you live on. There is still much remaining to discover."

Scotty nodded his head with a slow smile, an understanding reached between them.

Despite how they had suffered far worse in the past, it was McCoy slipping on the stairs in his own home that made Spock react immediately to raw fear.

McCoy's gasp drew his mate, who ran to catch him. Strong hands gripped him, and McCoy caught his breath, his legs burning from the fall. "I'm fine, I just tripped," he muttered, his knees bending as he attempted to find footing again.

"Has this happened previously?" Spock inquired, allowing McCoy to stand.

McCoy turned back around to scowl at him, bracing his hand on the rail. "I said I'm fine! Just one measly fall won't end me!"

"It is enough, however, to cause you severe injury, at this age," Spock replied, continuing to stand a step below him, "You also have not answered my question."

McCoy sighed. "Yes, it has, but I caught myself. We are not stripping out the stairs."

"I made no indication," Spock replied.

"Then what, you'll shepherd me up and down the stairs whenever I need? Be reasonable!"

"That is strange to hear from you," Spock commented.

McCoy scowled at him before retreating up the stairs. He would later make biting comments whenever Spock watched him ascend or descend the stairs, but at times, he would reach out, and affectionately grasp his arm over the rail, saying nothing.

XXXXXX

"We've got company," McCoy grumbled, his footsteps scraping against the flagstones of the garden. Spock opened his eyes from his meditation, and glanced up to see Leonard, a scowl on his face and clad in jeans and a plaid shirt, standing over him, his arms folded in discontent.

"I thought I had heard a flitter," Spock affirmed, rising to follow him.

"Should've known that we weren't going to get far with your cowboy diplomacy," McCoy growled.

A woman clad in a black long-sleeved shirt, despite the heat, and a black skirt stood beside an unmarked black flitter. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her sunglasses were on top of her head, displaying green eyes. She looked quite out of place, but the calculating nature of her expression showed that she wasn't a tourist gone astray. Nodding at their appearance, she stared forward, deftly stepping past a flowerbed. "Ambassador Spock, and Admiral McCoy," she greeted.

McCoy shook his head. "I told you, former. Call me doctor."

She nodded. "Of course, my apologies. Old habits die hard."

"Wouldn't call it a habit. I didn't know you until a few minutes ago," his tone held an undercurrent of suspicion.

"Of course," turning to Spock, she introduced herself. "Agent Adelaide McKenzie, of Starfleet Intelligence."

"I don't think that's correct," McCoy said.

Glancing over at him, she replied, "You didn't think it was the first time, either."

"I would have heard of you by now," he responded, his tone flat.

"Because of Nyota Uhura, is that right, doctor?" She inquired. McCoy's gaze hardened to ice at the rebuke. "Starfleet Intelligence is not merely the sum of its parts. You should have known that, given your work with her, as well as with Captain Sisko, and doctors Crusher and Selar."

"I assume that they're not receiving little visits, as well?" McCoy pressed.

"No," taking off her glasses, she wiped them on the edge of her sweater, the sun glancing off her leather gloves.

"I agree with the doctor," Spock added, as more of a way to advance the conversation, "You are not with Starfleet Intelligence, otherwise you would not be standing there."

Holding up her sunglasses to the light, McKenzie replied simply, "Correct, but," she lowered her sunglasses back to the top of her head, "It doesn't matter, then, if I'm seen or otherwise. That can be corrected, later."

As the spook continued to stand there on his property, plain as day, McCoy recalled a conversation during the fourth year of the five-year mission. On an away team with Jim on a planet later referred to as Nyx, he was running his tricorder over an oddly-glowing violet flower and measuring its healing abilities.

That was when Jim asked, while staring out over the quiet night sky, Nyx's solar hours being only two of twenty-six, and listening to the nocturnal creatures calling out to one another, "Bones, have you ever heard of Section 31?"

"Come again?" He had inquired, raising his head.

Jim turned back to look at him, repeating, "Section 31."

"Can't say I have. Why?" He was partially interested in the flower still but that dropped at the concerned look on his captain's face. Pausing in his work, McCoy asked, "What is it? Part of a city?"

"I was meaning to ask you about it earlier, after Minara II," Kirk commented.

McCoy felt a shiver down his spine, recalling his brush with death. Combined with the hypnotic glow of the flowers, and the low-toned calls of the creatures, the environment was eerie. "Any reason why?"

Kirk found a rock and sat down on it. "I've been looking into it on the side. You remember the incident that took the USS Sphinx?"

McCoy didn't want to think on it, as it coincided with the beginning of his contraction of xenopolycethemia. More so, he didn't want to think on the world where he gotten sick, later named Hel, and the hollowed out face of the emaciated, multi-antlered queen that continued, to that day, to stare out into a multi-verse only she could see, and watch her subjects, dead in this universe for centuries in this timeline, undergo suffering in some and be rewarded with prosperity in others. "Yeah, but what're you getting at?"

Kirk looked unsure of himself for a moment, kneading his hands for a moment as he glanced away. In a gentler tone, McCoy asked, "Jim, what's wrong?"

"I have too little information to go on, right now," he replied, seeming to come back into himself, "But I have a feeling that neither the Sphinx's destruction was an accident, nor was the Vians' presence on Minara II completely unknown."

"What do you mean?" He asked, the words sounding hollow in his throat.

Kirk's foot hit against the surface of the rock, and he tried to play it off with humor. "It's probably nothing. The night air's just getting to me. But stay away from that term for the time being."

"Okay…" McCoy replied slowly, lacking context.

Kirk nodded and pushed himself to stand up. "We'd better get a move on."

McCoy brought the conversation up to Spock the following night, only to find that the Vulcan had been given a similar warning. Any confrontations to Jim on the point were met, oddly, with a sharp rebuke, though more one that appeared to stem from concern, as if he was protecting them. And now, with Jim dead, he couldn't protect either of them anymore.

"You're with Section 31, aren't you?" McCoy inquired.

McKenzie nodded. "May I come in?"

"No," McCoy replied flatly.

She shrugged. "That was a formality, doctor. I have the proper authority to override that."

"On what grounds?" Spock inquired, though he had an idea as to them.

"Federation security," she replied, walking past both to the porch. Turning on her heel, she pointed at each of them in turn. "I will speak with each of you one at a time." Her hand fell. "After that, I will leave, and you'll not see me again. That's fair, don't you think?"

"We do not know if this is an interrogation," Spock replied.

She held up her hands. "You may search my vehicle or myself. I would prefer the doctor for the latter, as he is more trained in such things. You will only find recording software."

"And which of us is going to go first, then?" McCoy asked, annoyance clear to hear in his voice.

"Ambassador Spock, please," she replied, "Ambassador, I do find your work admirable, and wish to discuss it with you."

"Very well, after I conduct an investigation," Spock replied, moving toward the fritter.

McKenzie raised an eyebrow at McCoy, who gave a sharp jerk of his head. "Well, go in, then, if you're so insistent."

XXXXXXX

McKenzie chose the living room as the location to interview Spock, the recording device set onto the coffee table. After a few passing lines of praise, her demeanor became icy as she folded her hands in her lap. "Ambassador, do you have your notes on your travels to Romulus?"

"They have been already made available to Starfleet Intelligence."

"Indeed, they are," she agreed, and with a touch of distaste, stated, "They seem to be quite sparse."

"It is not easy to write essays while underground," Spock replied.

"I sympathize, but still, you were upheld, in some circles, as a figure of reunion. Surely, you should have taken that into consideration, let alone the fact that your reputation is also quite widespread for returning from the grave." McKenzie smoothed out the slipcover on the chair's arm. "I assume you are still receiving inquiries from several scientific academia about that?"

"They may consult T'Lar's successors," Spock dismissed, "My position is not one that concerns me. I merely did what was proper."

"What you thought was proper, actually," she corrected, "Not all Vulcans support reunification as vehemently as you do, Mr. Spock."

"I would not say vehemently."

"You went directly to Romulus," she stated plainly, "That is a vehement gesture."

"It was a first step. Vehemence would be radicalization."

"Several Romulans would say that what you were doing was radicalization," she replied, holding up a hand.

"You are considering the opinions of the Romulans?" Spock replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Merely for balancing purposes," she replied, lowering it, "The fact remains that, as your notes are wanting, it appears bothersome. There are simply too many holes."

"The historians may fill them," he replied, not liking where the conversation was going. McKenzie was unarmed, as she had promised, and while violence was not Spock's chief concern, his reaction would be key.

"Or, your husband may," she answered, bringing out a PADD. Spock made no visible reaction as she lowered into his hand for him to look through, the years of his archived clandestine messages exchanged with McCoy listed

Spock glanced up after a cursory look, and McKenzie surmised, "Let us say I am a Tal Shiar operative, viewing that. What must I think, then?"

Spock set it down. "It would expose the admiral."

She gave a shake of the head. "Let's not dance around the issue, here. McCoy was away multiple times on Borg relief missions. Imagine what would have happened then, because of your little pet project." Spock didn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. "The admiral is getting on in years," the agent stated, "Perhaps it is wise for you to make preparations for such a thing."

"I do not understand the pertinence of my husband's health to this conversation," Spock replied politely, "He has not travelled with me to Romulus."

"It was merely a statement of fact," the agent explained.

"One that is personal," Spock replied, "and therefore not pertinent. I would advise that the conversation is kept on point."

"Of course," she agreed, returning to the subject of Spock's notes. The Vulcan understood exactly what was meant by veering off-topic, but he didn't address the point. It was already made.

XXXXXX

"You have a strong track record, Doctor, that is not in debate." McCoy normally would have extended hospitality toward a guest in his home, but the agent before him was an exception to the rule. McCoy, one arm flung casually over the back of his chair, moodily tapped his fingers against the side of the glass that he was holding over the kitchen table. Glancing about, she continued, "You have a lovely home."

He cut her off with a sharp gesture. "Out with it."

On-lining her PADD, McKenzie placed it on the kitchen table before him. Her fingernails tapped as she moved and swiped the screen. Dates and times scrawled by, decryptions of poetry by human and Vulcan hands filled each page. Conversations that he had once thought private, between him and Spock, were held up for him to see. It was violating, with their looser language on display.

McCoy's eyes slowly widened, his arm falling off the back of the chair, and his pose becoming stiff. The inside of his mouth was dry as he followed her hands' movement. Pausing the screen, she explained, "It isn't all of it, but it's enough. During your years as admiral, you ran a heavy risk of compromising Starfleet intelligence, and the lives of millions, by substantiating Ambassador Spock's project."

Folding his arms on the table, he tilted his head. "It was to help unite two peoples."

Her green eyes flashed up at him. "What you need to understand, doctor, is that this isn't the same galaxy that existed 100 years ago. It isn't safe, and we are trying to protect our citizenry. Any threat to that, intentional or otherwise, must be dealt with."

The rebuke stung, and McCoy replied carefully, "That is insulting to the legacy of those who came before you."

"You cannot speak for the intentions of the dead. That includes the late Captain Kirk," she replied, the flatness of her tone annoying him.

She knew where to hit, he could give her that. McCoy knew that it was just to rile him, and it worked. "Don't," he rebuked shortly.

"The name was pertinent to the conversation," McKenzie explained, "Let us not forget that because of Captain Kirk's actions, as well as your own, you were put on trial." McCoy didn't see fit to raise the point that he hadn't been in his right mind at the time, lest he back himself into a corner. Continuing, she surmised, "And in this current climate, you each, barring Ambassador Spock, would have served time. You would not have made admiral."

"That didn't concern me," he raised.

"No," she brought the side of her hand against the PADD, "You just enjoyed playing with the nice toys that it afforded you." He didn't bother asking why he had been able to play cowboy with Spock for years, as he now understood it. The data presented by Spock was useful to Section 31, and in the meantime, McCoy was hanging himself with his own rope. McKenzie added, "It's people like you, and Ambassador Spock, who threaten the safety of the Federation. 100 years have come and gone, and it is time that you acknowledged that."

McCoy frowned, knowing that he wasn't going to win. "Fine, then, I won't do it again. Now if that's settled," he pointed toward the corridor, his tone becoming hard, "Get out of my house, and don't ever come back."

XXXXXX

"Should've retired earlier," McCoy grumbled. Reaching out to the side, he lowered himself to sit down upon the back porch steps with Spock, "Can't get away with anything, these days."

Spock didn't comment on how McCoy sounded like Kirk. "It begs the question as to why you did not do so before, Leonard."

McCoy waved a hand. "Simple, if you were going to get yourself killed, I may as well have, too."

"An illogical conclusion," Spock noted, and McCoy smirked at that, "And to our benefit, one that was not enacted. I will remain with you."

McCoy raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "You don't have to care for me, you know." Spock understood McCoy's defensiveness, given the incident on the interior stairs.

"That is not the intention. I am merely enjoying my retirement." With a raise of an eyebrow, he inquired, "Is that not what you have also intended to do in the past, t'hy'la?"

McCoy chuckled, scooting back on the stair. "Settling down together. What a novel idea."

Spock could feel McCoy's humiliation under the humor, and his anger at the galaxy effectively moving on without him. He lifted a hand and placed it to the side of McCoy's face. Leonard sighed heavily, the anger beginning to slip away as Spock soothed him. Spock had previously accepted the flaw of caring too heavily for others, and he knew that the day his mate would pass away would not be easy.

But it was all right.

"Master of my heart" was the term on Spock's home world, an overly emotional one, in his opinion, but one that he came to understand, over the years. There were occasions even on Romulus that his thoughts drifted back to Leonard on Earth. He was concerned over purely innocuous things, like whether his mate was eating properly, or if his back pain was becoming worse. It was an annoyance, but that was typical of Leonard.

After Jim's death, they'd had their rows. McCoy had been especially fierce in his anger, then "If you want to be like Jim, then be my guest!" He had snapped at him, pointing at him in an accusatory manner, "But in the moment, heaven forbid, that you get yourself killed, you'd best hope that you think of everything we all gave to bring you back!"

He couldn't save Leonard from dying of old age. It wasn't his place for him to prolong his life. He wouldn't have his katra, but he was willing to keep to what he had told him on Minara II, those many decades ago. He would be at peace with him, even if it meant oblivion.

The human rested his head against his shoulder. Leonard was merely sleeping. He would have felt him fading away otherwise. He traced a hand along his husband's sleeve, before at last resting it upon Leonard's.

In one lifetime, he'd lost him to xenopolycetemia. In another, the Klingons had yanked him from his grasp. Here they were, now, in this quiet house after a war. He could consider himself fortunate for being within this timeline, were he fully human, but logic dictated otherwise. The universe moved itself, and objects therein, according to its own strange design.

"Enough," McCoy grumbled, drawing Spock from his thoughts, "Can't we just enjoy the afternoon?"

Spock allowed himself a smirk. "As you wish, Ashayam."

Leonard squeezed his hand. "Glad we agree."

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "End of Time" by Lacuna Coil.
> 
> Agent Adelaide McKenzie is my character, as is the unnamed queen on planet Hel (she and the planet will be visited in a later fanfic I'm going to write) and T'Plen. Planet Hel and planet Nyx are my creations. Geordi/Bochra is a ship I'll cover in a different fic, as is Bochra's becoming a turncoat. McCoy working with Uhura, Captain Sisko, Dr. Selar, and Dr. Crusher is a reference to Catalyst of Sorrows by Margaret Bannano. The events of Minara II are from the TOS episode "The Empath," and my interpretation of it in "Rationalizations."
> 
> The two timelines where McCoy dies are, respectively, the mirror universe (disease), and the timeline of "Yesterday's Enterprise" (killing by Klingons, which is also going to be covered in a different fic). The USS Sphinx incident is from Cloak by S.D. Perry. McCoy's appearance in this is based on how he would have looked on the test screening (i.e. appearing physically to be a man in his seventies, which is how DeForest Kelley looked before applying heavy make-up).
> 
> I referenced "Thomas the Tank Engine" (the book Spock is holding is from The Railway Series, written in 1948 – it's about James, the red tender engine) in a Star Trek fanfiction. That's it. There is no help for me.


End file.
